"AAAAAAAAAAAARRRRRRgggggghhhhhhh!" Clark cried in anguish as Rev. Jim now took the liberty of giving him new beatings. This time it was with a very long whip. There were certain sounds coming in all around him and Clark was very sure that they were mostly made up of the anxious crowd of bloodthirsty venge-seekers..

"Clark, these beatings are making you angry aren't they?"

Crack

"It's no use trying to hide it anymore. We are all onto your game, like we've been from the beginning."

Crack

"Yet you think that we will still be fooled by your phony compassion. If your father we not helping prepare your final ordeal, I'm sure he would say the same thing. What kind of an idiot are you?"

"The…compassion's not…phony," Clark managed through the pain. "These…people…are…"

Crack

The crowd's laughter through Clark's pain-filled cries made the boy more tensed that he would normally be.

"Who are you kidding?" Rev. Jim laughed. "Who has nothing but hate for people who are torturing them? Nobody that's who! I think that's it's about time that you started telling us how you really feel."

Crack

"I…I…" Clark muttered after his latest scream.

Crack!

"Say it Clark! You know you want to! Just tell us what has been bubbling inside you for all these years!"

"I…HATE YOU ALL!" Clark cried as he got hit once again. Clark started to cry as he continued to shout. "How could you…all do this to…me! You humans…I hate you…all you want is…blood and…"

Crack

Clark was stunned at what came out of his mouth, however, he knew that these feelings had been welling up inside him for some time, and he didn't need very much force to drive them out. But Clark never said things like that. He didn't hate anybody. How could he do that? These people were hurting and it was all because of him and his meteor shower. The boy heard one more crack of the whip before he heard something else.

"Clark?"

"Aelora!"

"Hush, keep your voice down." Aelora whispered as she put her finger over Clark's trembling lips.

"W…where are we? I d-d-don't hear t-them anymore."

"They put you in a metal room with no doors but the one that's locked ten times over," Aelora said quickly as she stroked Clark's hair. "They put you in here after you were whipped in the head and knocked out. They wanted you to be awake for the next event, but they didn't want anyone like me getting to you."

It was hard for Clark to listen to his friend when his shivers were getting louder. He was trying to block out the memories that he could almost physically hear of all of the horrible people blaming him for the meteor shower or the horrible crack of the reverend's whip. His father's voice wasn't exactly silent either.

"Clark, are you listening to me?" Aelora called out to him. When he didn't respond, she tried to shake him.

"NO STOP!" Clark said as he began to panic.

Aelora grabbed his wrists to try and calm him down. "Clark, stop! You have to fight it!"

"Fight what!" Clark said as he began to cry. "My father! These goons all over the place! I can't fight them! They're right about everything. I have to take it."

"Clark, I have told you a hundred times that they were under the influence of the reverend. You have to fight his spell that makes you forget."

"Forget what?"

"Everything I've told you!"

"What did you tell me?"

"See what I mean?" Aelora said as she grabbed Clark's face. "The reverend knows that I do this. That's why he developed another spell to give his victims temporary short-term memory loss that filters in bad stuff and filters out good stuff."

"That's…what?"

Aelora shook her head and realized that these either these people had seriously damaged Clark's mental health, or he was intentionally not listening to her.

"Clark Kent, are you even listening to me?"

Clark's eyes began to glisten as he sighed and said, "There are other things on my mind right now, like LIVING. Or getting crucified! That's what's going to happen to me, right? I mean, it happened to Stephen, it happened to all of those other people you talked about. He's…I'm gonna die. Oh God Aelora, I'm gonna die."

"Clark, what have I told you about not cursing? And you seem to only remember what I told you about that, but you don't seem to recall that there is hope. Only One needed to go through this horrible thing, you shouldn't have to."

"W…what?" Clark shivered about hearing this glimmer of hope.

"Mar…The reverend is an idiot. Whatever's inside of him keeps wanting to redo that horrible death over and over so that it's degraded. However, there's only a limited amount of times that he's going to be allowed to do that before the One who actually went through it gets a little annoyed. In fact, I think He's been annoyed from day one. Soon it will be stopped, and you are the most likely candidate for the victim to be saved, even though I can't be sure."

"What are you…talking about? That makes no sense. Didn't that whole thing happen…two-thousand years ago?"

Aelora sighed and patted the boy on the shoulder. "That doesn't make any difference, but I don't think that you're in any condition to understand the whole situation now, especially since you gave in to the reverend and expressed the worst feeling that you could ever feel toward anybody."

"What? Hate?" Clark said in a nervous tone. "I don't…hate anybody Aelora…I just…"

"You're lying," Aelora interrupted. "These people are treating your compassion like garbage and using every little fear you have against you."

"Are you…trying to…make me hate them?"

"I'm trying to make you realize that it doesn't take a spell to make you have real feelings of hate for these people."

"I can't…help it Aelora…I don't want to…hate them…I just…"

"Clark, the minute that you give into that feeling is when Rev. Jim wins. You have to keep on trying to have good feelings…"

"How Aelora?" Clark interrupted.

"You already know how. You've been doing it for years toward people who didn't deserve it. You just have to teach yourself how to again. You can start by forgiving your father."

Clark's eyes widened while he just sat silently and thought about that. Forgive his father? What was he supposed to say to that? He had tried to get Jonathan's attention since this first started, but to no avail. He thought he heard his father almost defend him, but he wasn't even sure that was real. His father helped make him blind and probably smiled while doing it.

"Well?" Aelora said, a little worried at the boy's silence.

"I don't know," Clark said as he was about to cry. "He didn't even…flinch when mom was…shot…he…wait…Mom! How is mom? I completely forgot about her! How could I?"

"Clark, you're changing the subject."

"What happened to my mom! Did she die? She can't die!"

"Clark I…"

Clark then heard a commotion at the door as the locks were being opened. Clark's heart began to beat as Aelora got up from underneath the boy.

"Aelora…how did…you get in here? Maybe you can help me escape."

No response. Clark felt around him and found that the woman was gone. He was alone, and they were coming for him.

XXX

Clark was dragged into a room that felt so much bigger and dryer than the other rooms that he was in before. He also heard all of the voices around him echoing, like the room had a high ceiling. Clark figured that he was in the sanctuary of the church, the place they were in before they fell into the basement. What Clark didn't see was that all of the pews had been folded into the ground so that there was now flat ground. There was also a pulley system getting ready to lower the cross that had been on the wall to the ground.

"Clark," the reverend said as he walked beside the ailing boy as he was led toward the center of the expansive sanctuary. "I figured that you have seen enough of the humiliation, even though I think that you deserve more. However, I wouldn't want you to die before the best part, because that would be a shame."

"I'm guessing…the best part is...me on a cross…or something…" Clark breathed. He tried to fight and remember Aelora's words that would give hope. Clark wanted more than anything to be able to escape this horrible thing, but as he heard people in the background preparing for something big, he couldn't help but think that this would happen.

"Too bad that incredible brain is used for such horrible thoughts," Rev. Jim said. He then grabbed Clark by the back of his neck and said, "Nothing would make me happier than to see your mouth breathe its last breath. I have waited years for this day, my boy. My entire congregation has, too."

"You…forced them…to," Clark muttered.

The reverend then ordered his people to stop leading Clark and said, "You are not a boy who should be insulting the people of a reverend."

"You're not…a reverend. I'm not even…sure you're human." Clark was beginning to speak with conviction and fewer pauses despite the fact that he was still in a great amount of pain.

Rev. Jim then slapped him on the already tender cheek right before put Clark's chin in between his tight fingertips.

"You should not talk about humanity, boy. You are not nor will ever be somebody human. You are just a cancer that was put on this Earth so that the rest of us could suffer. I believe I have told you that and yet you do not seem to be with me."

"Screw you," Clark whispered through his broken spirit. It seemed that no matter how many times he heard that the reverend's words had no merit, they always seemed to sting. Clark didn't have any problem with expressing hate toward this man.

Rev. Jim couldn't seem to contain his pleasure in his eyes as he said, "I have a feeling that you might want to say that to someone else more than me."

Clark couldn't see them, but he knew that the glaring eyes of his father were there right in front of him. He was absent for the previous beating, but now he was here and snapped out of his semi-defense of his son. Jonathan seemed to be breathing hard as if he got enraged just looking at this boy. Clark took this into consideration as he stood there, slumped over and doubling over with pain. He could only think of one thing to tell his dad.

"Well," Jonathan said. "Don't you have some choice words for me?"

"I…do," Clark stuttered as he tried to get his bearings and stood up straight against all of the pain in his back. He breathed in as the words began to come to him. He thought of all of the things that had happened up until now, and how it would most likely be all over in a few minutes. All he wanted to do was give his father what he deserved the most.

"Dad…I just want…you to know, that...I…don't…hold any of this…against you, even if these thoughts…were in your heart. You didn't want to have them…I know it. I want you to know…that…I love you. No matter what…you do to me…no matter how much you tell me you hate me…I love you, and that will…never change."

Clark wanted to say more, but one of the minions slapped him in the face. It would not normally be a very hard blow, but Clark was so weak that he fell to the ground and let out a huge moan.

"It's funny how the attitude changes when you're about to die!" the reverend called out, sounding a little nervous. He then told his men to take Clark away.

However, as the people dragged Clark away, Jonathan felt a tug on his heart that he couldn't ignore. He started to massage his head and wonder why these feelings were coming back. He was awakened, which meant they couldn't come back. He couldn't love this boy, but at the same time, Jonathan felt that he was more deserving of this love than anyone. This boy forgave him when he forced him to run away, as well as when he made the deal with Jor-el. Clark loved him through all of the squabbles they had through the years, and always told him so after they were over. These memories seemed to contradict the one or two that made him think of Clark as an unholy demon.

Jonathan's insides felt like they were at war as he tried to fight all of the coming emotions that obviously belonged to his old self. He then felt a single tear roll down his cheek and wiped it away. Something deep inside him was crying, and it was sincere. Jonathan couldn't take it anymore. He wasn't strong enough to fight these feelings, however, once he gave in, he wondered why he felt they were foreign.

"Clark," Jonathan whispered to himself through his oncoming tears. For the first time in a long time, he saw the son whom he loved more than his own life being dragged away toward a cross that was being lowered. He saw him stripped down and scarred up horribly. He looked weak, frail, and frightened. A surge of anger then welled up in Jonathan's heart, at what had happened to him. It broke through any further inhibitions that kept him from being himself and he stood up straight let his eyes empty onto his cheeks. However, sobs did not go along with the tears, mostly because he had a new conviction. He didn't have any room for thoughts of guilt or sorrow that would inevitably come later, he only had one thing on his mind. He got up all of his courage and shouted through his teeth, "Leave my son alone!"